


A Different Kind of Psalm

by HipsterIzzy



Series: Take Me To Church [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Priest AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipsterIzzy/pseuds/HipsterIzzy
Summary: A quiet night in with Rhys makes Jack realize he's got feelings beyond lust.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't abandoned this series, and there's plenty more to come! The quote at the beginning is Song of Solomon 1:2, aka the Biblical Porn.

_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine._

“Jaaaaaack~!” Rhys squeals. Jack has him trapped underneath himself on the couch and is attacking his face and neck with little kisses. Rhys had insisted on wearing the older man’s sweater, saying that movie nights deserved comfy clothes. But the way it swallows the kid, falling off one pale shoulder invitingly, Jack can’t help himself. He pauses to grin devilishly up at Rhys, settling himself between those long legs.

“Can’t we just watch the movie~?” Rhys is giving him the most innocent of smiles, face flushed from laughing so much, chest heaving slightly. This dumb, stupid priest, with his ridiculous hair and goofy grin, should not have any effect on such a powerful CEO. It just isn’t fair. Men bow to Handsome Jack, not the other way around (but there’s a part of Jack that is more than happy to get on his knees for Rhys).

“Now, kitten,” Jack purrs, giving him a hurt expression as he slides his hands under the bottom of the sweater, “how can you expect me to pay attention to such a boring movie when I’ve got this delicious little treat practically in my lap?” He leans down to press his lips to the priest’s neck again, his trail deliberately unhurried now. With his lips pressed to Rhys’s neck, he can feel the tiny gasp trying to escape those perfect lips. He slides his hands further up Rhys’s torso, grinding his hips against Rhys’s backside.

“Jaaaaaack, c'mon, that’s not fair!” the priest whines, a cute pout replacing the smile from moments ago. There’s a smoldering look of desire burning in his mismatched eyes, and Jack just can’t help himself. He was trying to tease the younger man into begging, but suddenly his lips are on Rhys’s and Rhys’s hands are grasping at his bare shoulders in an attempt to get him closer. Jack gives in for the moment, his tongue delving deeper into his lover’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying it. He grinds his hips against Rhys again, pulling a soft little whine from the priest at the same moment he lets out his own groan. Now it’s fair. They’re both on that same plane of slightly desperate.

Before it gets any further, Jack pulls away completely, settling back against the couch as if nothing had happened, even going as far as slinging his arm across the back of it. It takes the priest a moment to realize what’s taken place, and Jack has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Rhys slowly sits up, brows knit and eyes burning into the side of Jack’s head. Jack keeps his eyes on the television, feigning interest in the movie.

“Somethin’ the matter, cupcake?” He knows exactly what the matter is.

Rhys doesn’t answer. Not with words, anyways. He climbs onto Jack’s lap, gripping his shoulders tight and glaring at the older man, and Jack is pretty sure he’s never been this turned on before. But he plays it cool, idly slipping his free arm around the holy man’s waist.

“Rhyyyyyyysie, can’t we just watch the movie~?” he asks in a mocking tone.

“I’m more interesting than the boring, dumb movie, and now I’m literally in your lap.” His fingers tighten slightly, the tips digging into Jack’s skin. The hand on Rhys’s waist slips lower. Jack suddenly realizes how much he loves it when the priest gets demanding like this.

“Yeah, pumpkin, I know. It’s kinda hard to see through mud.” For good measure, he cranes his neck so he can see around the kid. “Maybe if you focused more on the movie and less on tempting an innocent man, you’d find the movie interesting~” It’s tough to resist the temptation of that perfect mouth, but Jack soldiers on, pushing Rhys to take action.

Rhys doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he uses both hands to turn Jack’s gaze back on himself. Then he leans in close, as if he’s about to kiss the older man. And Jack is so ready for it. But the kiss doesn’t come.

“Lucifer is far more innocent than you, Mr. Lawrence,” he growls.

Then the kiss comes. It’s feral and demanding, and when Rhys begins rocking his hips against Jack’s, the older man has to grip him by the hips with both hands. After a brief moment to let the shock settle, Jack starts kissing back. He uses his tongue to coax the younger man into something more gentle, less of a battle and more of a dance. Rhys’s hips haven’t stopped moving, but they’re starting to slow down. Jack can feel the bulge in the priest’s shorts, so he stealthily slips a hand in to start stroking it.

Rhys breaks the kiss with a gasp, but he doesn’t pull away from Jack’s face. As he continues to stroke, Jack idly muses about the fact that being with Rhys is a hell of a lot easier than being with his typical type. There’s no pressure to impress, no need to try super hard to make the kid want to come back for more. He grins again as he watches the priest’s face.

“I thought you just wanted to watch the movie, pumpkin~?” Maybe that’s part of what makes this different. Rhys isn’t afraid of pissing him off, Rhys doesn’t just lay there and let Jack do the work. Probably because Rhys never heard the rumors about how awesome Jack is in bed. Also probably because Rhys never had the chance to experiment like Jack did, and maybe he’s trying to make up for lost time. It’s new and exciting, and Jack makes a note in the back of his mind to thank his twin for his new toy.

“Jaaaaaack, nooooooo, keep going!” the priest whines, and Jack realizes he must’ve gotten too distracted with his thoughts. He picks up the pace of his strokes again, much to Rhys’s delight.

“If you really wanna, we could totally take this to the bedroom, cupcake~”

Rhys nods eagerly, but makes no move to try and pull away. Jack removes his hand from the younger man’s shorts to hold him tightly as he stands and starts to walk towards his bedroom. Rhys clings to him, hooking his ankles behind Jack’s back as he peppers little kisses across Jack’s face. That’s another thing that’s different. Rhys isn’t afraid to show him other forms of affection. Mainly in the form of kisses. Sometimes, it’s cute little pecks to his cheeks or forehead (like that time he worked late and Rhys had swung by to bring him dinner, only to find him passed out on his desk). Other times, times that don’t involve sex, it’s something Jack remembers from his first marriage. Loving kisses that taste of gratitude and assurance. It makes his chest ache, as if his heart is remembering that intoxicating feeling that goes way beyond lust. Jack’s pretty sure he’ll get addicted to that soon (that’s the lie he tells himself, anyways, because if he were truly an honest man, he’d admit that he’s already addicted).

As they reach the bed, Jack realizes he’s overthinking things, so he lets go of Rhys to dump him on the bed. Unfortunately, Rhys doesn’t let go of him, and the extra weight suddenly hanging off of him causes Jack to lose his balance. They both fall, and the kid’s giggle fit is contagious enough that Jack can’t help but to laugh with him. He sits up as his laughter dies down, giving Rhys a warm smile. For once, he doesn’t want to just wreck the priest. He wants to take his time, savor being close to someone he knows only wants to be close to him, and he doesn’t dwell too long on that train of thought because he’s not afraid of what it means or anything, it’s just that there’s more important things to focus on (like the way Rhys is looking up at him expectantly, lightly skating his thin fingers up Jack’s chest).

In no time, Jack’s lips are back on Rhys’s, and he’s tugging at the waistband of the priest’s shorts. He breaks the kiss as Rhys lifts his hips. After the shorts are out of the way, Jack stands to quickly get rid of his sweatpants. While he’s standing, he grabs the lube from the nightstand.

Rhys hasn’t taken the sweater off, but he’s settled himself against the pillows, his legs spread and two fingers already buried in himself. Jack wastes no time joining him on the bed, and while Rhys does tug him into another kiss with his free hand, the younger man leaves his fingers where they are. That and the desperate moans against his lips fuel Jack’s desire. He uncaps the lube and blindly squirts some into his hand, then tosses the tube aside and eagerly begins to stroke himself. Rhys’s kiss is hungry, urgent, but Jack still wants to take his time. He pulls back from the kiss, reaching to pull Rhys’s fingers from himself.

“Let me help you, babycakes~” He slips his own fingers into the younger man’s entrance, earning a gasp and a desperately whispered “please”. He’s thorough and attentive as he stretches Rhys open, curling and scissoring his fingers, trailing his lips down the kid’s neck, pushing the sweater up to kiss down his chest, and lightly trailing over his stomach to wrap around the head of his erection. He uses his tongue, hums around the flesh when he hears his name being whispered like a prayer, and he doesn’t stop when he feels fingers tugging urgently at his hair. Rhys’s voice quickly crescendos as he hits his peak, and Jack greedily swallows everything.

He sits up to look at his boy, at his disheveled hair, sweat glistening near his hairline, lips red and swollen. Jack grabs the lube to once again coat his arousal. Rhys is still panting, still resting on the high from his climax, when Jack starts to push into him. He wraps the priest’s legs around himself before leaning in to once again kiss him. Jack keeps it slow this time, letting his actions say what he refuses to even think to himself. When Rhys nudges him with his heel, Jack starts to thrust into him, swallowing the whines and whimpers of his overstimulated lover. He tries to pace himself, tries to keep control of the situation, but the way Rhys is already pushing his hips up to meet Jack’s thrusts is too much. He picks up the pace, cradling the back of Rhys’s head in one hand and gripping his hip tightly with the other. Rhys’s nails are suddenly digging into his shoulders, but he’s pulling away from the kiss.

“Jack, please, c’mon! I need you!” His voice is strained.

“You already got me, pumpkin~ Balls deep~”

Rhys tries to give him a stern look, but his face is quickly twisted up in pleasure as Jack hits just the right spot. He holds that angle as he once again picks up the pace, knowing he doesn’t have to work to impress Rhys, but wanting to rock his world nonetheless. He slips a hand between them to stroke the priest, wanting to get him off a second time before he lets himself tip over the edge. Amidst a chorus of, “Oh, god!” “Yes!” and, “Harder, Jack, _harder_!” Rhys climaxes again, painting his stomach and the hem of Jack’s sweater in his own release. The way Rhys tightens around him pulls Jack along with him, causing the older man to utter, “Fucking shit, Rhysie!” as his hips stutter and he fills the priest.

He collapses on top of the younger man, nose buried in the crook of his neck. Rhys’s fingers move to gently card through Jack’s hair as they catch their breath. As they lay there, enjoying the afterglow, Jack supposes that maybe Tim was right. Maybe he was allowed to have another shot at finding happiness, and love wasn’t just reserved for dumb teenagers or women who bought into the lies Hollywood constantly pumped out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting!


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